


Save Me From Myself

by bekahroberts



Category: Hanson (Band), Zac Hanson - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bekahroberts/pseuds/bekahroberts
Summary: She thought she had it all figured out.  He thought he had lost it all.





	Save Me From Myself

There are things in this life that don't bother me like they would anyone else. For instance: going into the lunch area of work to grab a cup of coffee after a particularly hard period of teaching and seeing the carafe is empty – yeah, that doesn't bother me. Spilling a red wine on my new white blouse? There's ways of lifting the stain. I'll live. Eating alone? Going to the movies alone? Easy. Even the tear in my favorite hooded sweatshirt didn't upset me – it wasn't like I wore it anywhere but in the comforts of my own home, anyway.

But then you have the things that do bother me: abandoned animals left at shelters after living multiple years with an owner and just left because they were replaced with a newer, younger pet – there's a special place in hell for those people. Wet socks. I hate socks in general, but man, does this issue in particular really drive me up a wall. Oh, and being stood up for a date from a man you didn't even know existed until the day before.

I will thank the unmentioned third party for even introducing me to the idea of this "alleged" blind date. Possibly with a glass of the red wine that I have in my hand on his shirt. It was his idea, his friend, after all.

... Nah. I like wine too much.

Glancing once more at my watch (man, did it itch my wrist – why did I decide to wear something I never wore anyway?) to check the time – yep, still late. Now, instead of him being 40 minutes past not showing up, he was now 45 minutes past that. I would pay top dollar to bet that he was just not going to show. I glanced at my phone, lighting up the screen to see if there were any notifications or text messages from him (spoiler alert: there wasn't) and sighed – not out of sadness, but of annoyance – I spent 45 minutes of my time standing by this Christmas tree he told me to wait for him by and lost those minutes when I could have been conversing, enjoying the company I actually had surrounding me; maybe drinking more wine, also.

I mean, it _was_ a Christmas party, after all; drinking the good stuff was expected.

I glanced to my right back at the Christmas tree – it an artificial one in a beautiful lighter green color with white lights and a simple star at the top of the tree – while it was simple, it was beautiful and full. At least it kept me company.

Because inanimate objects are the best conversationalists in the world.

I said a silent goodbye to said tree, maneuvering myself through the small group of people that were in the front room and towards the back, where a small makeshift stage was set up and the party host, also known as the "blind date matchmaker" sat, leaning up against the doorframe of the room, his girlfriend standing next to him as they both drank out of red solo cups decorated in holiday attire.

Very classy.

Music had been playing ever since I came, but since I was supposed to meet the no-show, I was unaware that it had been actual live music until my eyes settled on the man just across the room from me, sitting on a stool with one foot woven through the rung of the stool and the other firmly planted on the ground, eyes shut as he sang an unfamiliar Christmas tune.

He was cute. Really cute. Probably about my age (28 ... ish) or a few years older and had some seriously broad shoulders. I couldn't see much else because of the lighting (yet another Christmas tree in this room served as one of the two lights, the other being the strands of Christmas lights around the room) but I could tell his hair was dark – perhaps a darker brown – not in the black-hued family – and it rested just below his ears in a shag that you'd see on surfers or drummers who didn't care to grow their hair out long-slash-were growing their hair out long.

"Hey!"

Ah, yes, the "matchmaker" speaks. I smirked, making a few steps to close in on him. "Hey, yourself!"

"Where's Mike?"

He honestly had no clue. Well, I mean, how could he? At this point, he was looking over my head and around me to see if he was approaching, trying to figure out this "Mike" character's whereabouts.

I creased my eyebrows, giving him the "no-go" look. "He never showed. No text, no call ... nothing."

Matchmaker, whose real name is Matthew, sighed. "Argh, I'm sorry, Lia; I should have known he would do this – I thought setting him up with someone like you would settle him down, but I guess he had other ideas."

I shrugged. "It's okay. A waste of part of my evening, but it's okay. Not your fault." I turned and looked back at the musician on the stage, feeling my cheeks flush when he caught my gaze and gave me a grin, exposing a serious set of white teeth. Holy crap. I think just watching him will make up for that lost time.

"That's Zac."

I looked back over at Matthew, eyebrow raised. "What? Who?"

Matthew nodded his head towards the stage, smiling. "Zac. He and I grew up together. We met when he was 16 and I was 18."

So Mister Musician was 31. And he had a name. At least we were making progress on something tonight. Taking another sip (a long one, that is) of my wine, I tried to casually glance at him again, he still grinning but now singing with his eyes shut. "And why have I never heard of this "Zac" character before?"

Matthew laughed, setting his drink down and placing a kiss to his girlfriend's temple, she glancing over from her conversation and waving at me with a smile before going back to what she had been speaking about. "Probably 'cause you never asked."

I looked at him, confused. Why would I ask about someone that I didn't even know existed up until about five minutes ago? If I had known he existed anytime sooner than that, I would have definitely been asking about him. "Well, I'm asking now."

He gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen, he walking to his refrigerator and pulling it open to grab a tray of cheeses to refill the one that had been on the counter. "You know those photos on my desk? The ones you always manage to rearrange when you come to visit me between classes?"

I grinned. We were both 4th grade teachers at a local elementary school and his classroom was right across the room from mine. "Of course. Who else would put some organization to that mess you call a desk?"

"Well," he said, back to me as he arranged the cheese, "if you paid more attention to who was in the photos and not where the photos should be, you would have seen him in two of them."

Okay, so I may not be as observant as I thought. "Oh."

Turning back to me and reaching beside me to toss the cheese bag away, he chuckled. "Yeah, 'oh'. Got a picture there from the last show he had and another with us a few years ago in a paintball tournament."

Paintball? "Isn't that for ... young adults?"

He scoffed. "Define 'young', Lia."

"Okay. Young: high school students, college students, gamers ... "

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that." He grabbed my wine glass out of my hand, pouring more wine into my glass. "Besides, it's fun to get away and forget adulthood for even just a few hours. Don't you do that anymore? You're only, what ... 28, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but ... adulthood brings responsibilities, and –"

"Gray hair. Live a little. Maybe I should have introduced you to Zac a long time ago."

"Probably better than who you set me up with tonight," I grinned, sipping the sweet goodness of yet another red wine. I could take stock in this stuff.

But I won't. Promise.

Matthew didn't say anything else as he smirked, walking past me and back into the room as I followed, sitting down on one of the stools that lined the rear of the room. Matthew sat next to me, his lifting his hand that held his drink up as he gestured to the front of us. "So, that's Zac. Newly single. Broken engagement – not really sure of the details, as it was the fiancée that broke it off – but from my understanding, it was amicable and he isn't scorned about it. Drum teacher by day, musician by night. He and his brothers have ... had a band, but for whatever reason, they decided to go in different directions with their music. His older brother is actually a teacher at the middle school – Taylor Hanson."

I looked at him, slack-jawed. Hottie musician was related to hottie music teacher? There is a God. _That_ is his brother?!"

Matthew chuckled. "Yes, _that_ is his brother. His married with five children brother."

"A girl can look ... doesn't mean anything!"

With a shake of his head, Matthew continued, "his oldest brother is a music therapist in Florida. Helps kids with Autism and developmental delays. Just had his third kid a year or so ago. He's got one more brother and three sisters – the oldest sister is married, but the other three live at home."

I whistled. "Big family."

Matthew nodded, smiling. "Big family full of people with big hearts. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you needed him to. That's why the break-up was so shocking to all of us. But, like I said, he's taking it really well and seems to have moved on. He doesn't really talk much about it, though; probably something he doesn't want to dwell on."

I could feel for him there. It wasn't common knowledge, as my relocating to Tulsa only those two years prior was actually because of my own disintegration of an engagement to my boyfriend of four years.

Ours wasn't as amicable though.

Why would it be when you come home after doing evening tutoring to a handful of students to find him in bed with one of your fellow teachers? The mature thing to do would be to just turn on your heel and leave.

But, I was 26; I didn't have to be mature ... yet. So, a few frames, a flower vase and a tv remote later, my bags were packed and I pulled the old map out of my dashboard console (it was my dad's old map from when he traveled – I kept it to remind me of those days), ready to find my own adventure away from my past. A large shot of Jack later, along with closed eyes and a finger aimlessly circling the map, I chose Tulsa, Oklahoma as my next venture.

And here I am now.

"You want to meet him?"

I snapped out of my reverie, looking over at Matthew. "Come again?"

"I asked if you wanted to meet him," Matthew repeated, finishing off his drink as he stood up. Extending his hand to me, it was then that I noticed the music wasn't playing anymore and a computer in the corner of the room was taking care of the Christmas cheer. "At least we know he showed up."

I rolled my eyes at this, shaking my head. "I think I'll sit this meeting out for now." It wasn't as if I didn't want to meet him, but I may have just made myself a little irritated thinking about what brought me here. I honestly didn't want to be a killjoy. "Soon, though."

Matthew looked at me curiously. I knew he wanted to ask, but I could tell he was refraining from doing so, which I was thankful for. "Suit yourself," he smiled. "Maybe later?"

I nodded, watching as he walked away towards another group of people, the lights of his tacky Christmas sweater making me laugh. I had opted to stay away from tacky, as I knew it was a first date and I wanted to make a somewhat "fashionable" impression – so my sweater just had Santa drinking with his reindeer, a few passed out.

Did I mention it was a sweater vest? Simply fantastic.  
  


After a few rounds of a very festive version of Beer Pong and watching the more-than-drunk partygoers sled ride down Matthew's small hill on broken down cardboard boxes, I felt myself feeling pretty close to where they were and was thankful I had taken a cab. I was a teacher; I had to be responsible, even when my drinking wasn't.

The feeling in my head was slightly dizzying, so I sat down on the plush couch in the front room, near my first friend at the party, the Christmas tree. The lights were dancing across the walls and ceiling, my vision blurring with every moment I studied them. I probably was staring too intently at them, not aware of my surroundings and jumping when I felt the couch shift.

"Sorry," the voice said, chuckling a bit, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's –" I turned, capturing the gaze of Mister Musician – er, Zac, "okay." I gave him a smile, suddenly feeling like I was 16 again and seeing the boy I had a crush on in the hallways of school. "I was just watching the lights twinkling, trying to keep the room from spinning."

I watched as he laughed, leaning into the couch with an arm resting on the back, head tilted to look at what I had been intently studying before he startled me. "I can see why they're so interesting ... "

I looked back over at the wall, shutting my eyes for a moment to stop the moving. You'd think after years of drinking, I would learn that doing that was the last thing you should do when trying to contain drunkenness. Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I smirked. "Something like that." Glancing over at him, I could see that his gaze was fixated on me now. It wasn't a creepy gaze, or one that said he was mentally undressing me, but it was one of interest, waiting for me to continue speaking. "Was just sitting here for a minute to get away and get my bearings back."

"Ah, the moment of realization when you may have drank a little too much, too fast."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Not too fast, but definitely too much. I think the beer pong did me in."

"You'd think we'd have more sophisticated drinking games at our age than that," he grinned. "How did you do?"

Flashbacks to the numerous times I had to chug warm beer out of red solo cups ran through my mind like a quick bolt of lightning. "Let's just say, I shouldn't quit my day job." I reached into my back pocket to check my phone, the screen lighting up with the time of 12:26AM. "Geez. A couple years ago, I'd still be in there trying to regain some sort of lead in that game; now I'm ready for bed."

He raise an eyebrow, glancing at the door as he spoke. "You didn't drive, did you?"

I shook my head, gesturing to my phone as I pulled up the cab company from the contact list. "I made sure I had my ways to get home tonight. I just needed one of these nights – I don't do it often. Actually, I haven't done this since last Christmas."

He nodded. "Ah, yes, the infamous Christmas party of 2015 that I missed because of prior commitments –"

That is why I didn't meet him last year!

" – heard it was an interesting end of the party."

"Of what I remember, yes, it was. Didn't drive home that night, either."

He chuckled at my quick addition of the lack of my driving, shaking his head. "I'm sorry I missed it." He glanced at his own phone, pushing himself up off of the couch. "By the way, I'm Zac. You're Lia, right?"

I nodded, slowly getting myself up off of the couch myself and extending my hand as he gripped mine and shook it. I wish I could say that it was a life-changed, spark-filled touch, but it was nothing to write home about.

Then again, I don't believe in that initial spark anyway. You work for something to achieve what you want. Especially if both parties care about each other.

"I'm heading out now – I have an early morning. Did you want me to give you a ride? I won't charge fare," he teased, nodding towards the door. "You don't live far, do you?"

I grinned. "What if I said I was an hour away? Would you back down from your offer of taking me home?"

He shook his head, laughing. "No, no! I was just trying to figure out where you lived so I knew the distance from there to my house."

"In that case," I smiled, "I'm only about ten minutes away. I live in the townhome plan on East 65th Street."

"So, that's a 'yes' to the ride?" He looked away from me for a moment as he walked towards the foyer closet, grabbing his coat. As I gave him my positive response, he buried his head back in the closet. "What coat is yours?"

I walked over towards him, reaching for the black military-style jacket in front of him. "What was Matthew doing? I need to go say 'goodbye' to him –"

Zac shook his head, gesturing down towards the basement. "He was in an intense game of beer pong the last time I saw him – he's probably so drunk he wouldn't even remember you telling him that, anyway."

"True," I smiled, slightly blushing as I realized he was opening up my coat to assist me with putting it on, "thanks. I guess I'll just go, then. There's still a good bit of people here for him to not realize I'm gone, anyway."

"Not that you'd be someone that somebody wouldn't miss while gone," he smiled, winking at me.

Okay, there it was. Slight little pitter-patter. He's cute, okay? Leave me alone!

We walked to his car in silence, he being the proper gentleman and opening up the passenger door and helping me in before shutting it behind me, jogging to his side, breaths coming out in steamy puffs of air against the bitter cold night. "You'll have to tell me which place is yours; I know where it is, but I've never been in the development."

I nodded, reaching across myself and buckling the seatbelt. He followed, putting the key in the ignition and blowing warm air into his hands as he cranked up his heater. "Car heats up pretty fast; shouldn't be too long before we're sweating."

I grinned, sinking into the seat as he pulled out onto the residential road, driving towards my home like it was second nature to him. I guess since he had grown up in the area, it wasn't something unfamiliar to him, but nonetheless, it felt nice – like he had been driving me home all along.

"So, I saw you while I was singing," he said, glancing at me before putting his eyes back on the road, a coy smile on his face, "saw you looking at me a few times."

I felt my face warm even more than the heat hitting my face from his car vents. "Well, I mean, I didn't know who you were and yeah, you were cute, but –"

"You think I'm cute, huh?"

More heat to my face. I never knew it was possible to blush on top of blushing. "Don't let it get to your head," I said, teasing him slightly. "I'm sure you've heard it before."

"Sure, I have," he nodded, his tone not one of ego or awareness, but of acknowledgement, "but when a beautiful girl takes notice of you and tells you, you wanna gloat about it some."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes some as I heard his compliment towards me. It's not that I didn't believe he was genuine, but it was something that I never believed to be true. I blame heartbreak. "That's my house right there," I said instead, pointing to the only one without Christmas lights up. "Thank you."

"Why didn't you hang up lights?"

I looked at him, gesturing towards myself. "I am a walking act of clumsiness. I don't trust myself on ladders and honestly, I probably would have get angry and toss them, anyway. I'm not a big fan of celebrating this holiday. I mean, I get the meaning, but I don't like it. I have a tree, I have a stocking ... that's enough."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Lia."

And there it was. "You, too, Zac," I smiled, looking down at his extended hand and slid my own into his, feeling him squeeze mine slightly before releasing it. "Thank you for the ride."

He gave me the same smile that he gave me at the party while on stage and I nearly melted again. "Any time, Lia. Get some sleep, alright? And make sure you take some pain reliever and drink plenty of water before you get sleep. It will help with any hangover you get."

"It's like you've done this before," I teased, getting out of the car. "I will. Thank you again."

"Don't mention it," he said, lifting his hand in a goodbye, "see you around, Lia."

"Bye, Zac." Turning around, I made my way up and into my house, his lights washing over my home as he had waited to make sure I was in before leaving, sighing as I closed the door and locked it behind me.

Well, _that_ went well.


End file.
